


The Aware Brotherhood

by hellzone



Category: Elder Scrolls, HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self-Aware
Genre: Cults, Dark Brotherhood AU, Murder, No beta we die like Forzen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, ships come later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:06:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26077681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellzone/pseuds/hellzone
Summary: … His name is Gordon Freeman.He’s a Breton from the Daggerfall countryside.No siblings, no childhood friends, he was always a mystery.And his worst mistake of his life is killing a man in cold blood.No set schedule, just a side project.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Aware Brotherhood

**Author's Note:**

> "Instead of twisting up words you just sat there in silence...  
> ...In wind burnt homes sighing rays from a sunset."  
> \- Rory by Foxing
> 
> Took a LONG TIME to write, and future chapters might be the same. Have fun with this stupid crossover AU.

Nothing seemed to ease his mind anymore.  
Perhaps it was the foolishness of letting bitter bloodlust take over his fate, letting himself fall to violence when he had everything he ever wanted. He lay awake even now at the spiral downward his life had taken, and slowed his breath as he pressed his cheek against the poorly-crafted bed he paid for the night. A cheap inn can only bring one so much. The breton let his fingers trail along the material, opening his senses ever so slightly. He must be close to Cyrodiil… He can see it in the features of the land, golden grass that stretched on for miles and some ancient rubble that he found in the hillsides. It was pleasant, but it didn’t ease his fears, his anxieties.  
The breton sat up, rubbing the bottoms of his palms into his eyes before going to find his glasses. He couldn’t sleep, not after his horrible mistake… not after this sudden new life of being an outlaw. He even had to take an audible deep breath before trying to go over what happened one last time…  
… His name is Gordon Freeman. He’s a Breton from the Daggerfall countryside. No siblings, no childhood friends, he was always a mystery. Gordon always showed interest in the Fighter’s Guild, and became one of their best members over time. He’s always been good with projectiles, and even picked up lockpicking as a hobby. His worst mistake of his life is killing a man in cold blood.  
That’s how he got out here.  
A brutal murder.  
Somehow it felt right in the moment. His mind screamed the impulse at him, on a level he wasn’t able to handle, so he strangled his fellow Fighter’s Guild member. His hands shivered, and he outstretched his fingers, desperately wishing he couldn’t feel his hands. Gordon killed a man with those hands. The breton nearly choked on his own spit before hanging his head.

That’s when he heard the noise.

A voice outside his door, coming from the poorly-kempt window in the hallway. A rattling noise soon followed, then the sound and smell of smoke. Gordon held his breath, wondering of what could possibly be here at such a late hour. Perhaps if he stayed still, the stranger would leave him alone? It seemed to be a good way of thinking at the time… Alas, it seemed luck wasn’t on his side. Light steps pattered along the squeaking wooden floor, slightly lost by the sound of it’s trail, but eventually his door creaked open, and a gold, reptilian eye peered into the room.  
“Aha!” Whispered the stranger, a flash of sharp teeth appearing as the door widened and the stranger crept into the room. Absolute terror gripped Gordon as the figure entered, his eyes looking around for any sort of easy-access weapon, but there was nothing for him. He froze still as the small mer stood over him, their hand on a dagger strapped to his belt.  
It was a sane falmer, quite small and scrappy, but carried himself like royalty. He dressed in dark greens and pale golds, with neat black-framed glasses balanced on his nose. The stranger’s skin was so pale, he was practically a ghost in this low light. When he spoke, it came like a puppy’s snarl, high-pitched but threatening, the sharp teeth of the figure creating a particular image of this character.  
“Gordon Freeman, correct?” The breton’s very name rolled off the falmer’s tongue with ease, “You don’t need to answer, I know my targets, Freeman.” The stranger’s small steps made the wooden floor creak just barely, but it made Gordon jump with the incoming closeness between them. Was this revenge for the murder he committed? If so, he deserved it, but he refused to go down without a fight. Gordon kicked himself out of bed and to his feet, choking on his breath as he suddenly knocked back into the wall of his small room. He, honest to the divines, thought he was a goner… But that is not what fate has chosen for him.  
“Freeman, Freeman! I’m not trying to hurt you… I merely have a proposition of sorts from my higher-ups.” The stranger leaned against the other side of the room, raising his hands in the air in a defensive position, “Call me Bubby, and please don’t wear it out~!”  
Gordon could find his words, even any form of response, so he held himself still as this “Bubby” kept on his strange rambling. “If you can’t tell, I am a member of the Dark Brotherhood, y’know, all those mysterious assassins you hear in dark corners?” The falmer grinned, “We’ve heard of your work, Freeman… We wonder if you would like to listen to our offer. I promise there is no trick involved, we only want to appreciate your talent!”  
Gordon squinted his eyes. An offer, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it. However, with his life in the Fighter’s Guild now behind him, he wondered if being so suspicious of this was worth it. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought about Bubby’s words, then finally answered with a nod. Such a response made Bubby’s eyes practically burn with vigor, and he let in a deep breath before he explained his offer.  
“We want you to join us, Freeman. We want you to kill another soul in exchange for sanctuary! It’s all we ask of you.” Gordon remained silent at that, but he couldn’t deny his desire for sweet, savory violence… He nodded in agreement. There was no home for him at the moment, merely just a constant cycle of running as an outlaw. To finally gain shelter and safety once again would be a blessing. In fact, such a second chance at life warmed the breton’s heart, and left a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  
Bubby clasped his hands together, straightening his posture with utmost priority in his appearance in mind. Despite the falmer’s small stature, he could be intimidating with a glance. Gordon ingrained the next phrase in his mind very carefully.

“Then my orders are as follows, Freeman:  
Go south toward Anvil, not long of a walk, I promise you.  
There, in the town’s Mage’s Guild, is a dunmer woman named Terracom…  
...Kill her with this Blade of Woe, and we will welcome you with open arms!  
Just know I’ll be watching the whole time… Every little slip-up might just make me cackle.”

The assassin was right. He got to Anvil easily, with slight paranoia in the back of his mind… He swore he had eyes on him at all times. A stroll into the Mage’s Guild for a simple murder wouldn’t be so bad, right? He’s killed before, taken a life with his very hands. It should even be easier than the first time. Just take it slow, treat it as intimately as it truly is.  
His target was well-kempt, neat, but didn’t particularly stand out amongst the other Mage’s Guild members. Her eyes were sweet to peer into, an orange color that burned bright with the passion of life. It was really a shame Gordon would have to snuff out her flame for the sake of his art. Soon she’d be sent into the void, with only Sithis there to greet her. However, in the meantime, he held a friendly facade, trotting into the Mage’s Guild with extreme caution.  
Her hand was gentle to shake, perhaps even nervous in nature. It’s like she expected her time alive to come to an end. The intimacy of a murderer and their victim was too much for words. By sundown, Gordon held the blade firmly in his hand. It was light, a sharp and dangerous weapon, so ready for the taste of blood.  
And the taste of blood it shall receive.  
Blood ran down to the floor, staining both their clothes with dark red. The paint of death, with his victim’s body as the canvas. He stuck the blade between her ribs, looking into her eyes as life left them. He was surprised he didn’t even flinch during the process, only snuck up behind her and let her weight fall into his arms. Slowly, Gordon laid the body down on the floor, blood starting to pool on the old wood.  
He snapped out of the strange haze by the sound of clapping… And an unnervingly familiar voice.

“Congratulations, Gordon! Your first murder for the brotherhood… Isn’t it exciting?” The falmer he met with from before, Bubby, approached Gordon from behind. The breton nearly jumped, preparing his blade of woe in case it was an attack, but instead it was a strange ally he’d managed to please. The falmer stepped to his side, patting the breton’s back as he admired the clean wound that killed his victim. Yes, Bubby sure looked pleased with this kill, even ecstatic.  
“Good shit, my friend, good shit.” Bubby nodded, reptilian eyes darting over to face Gordon’s green ones. The breton’s neutral expression started to fade into weariness, a slight furrow of his brow and a hand to his cheek assured it. However, the falmer didn’t seem to mind Gordon’s negative expression.  
“Now, Gordon, time for me to fulfill my end of the deal, hm?” Bubby raised a brow toward the breton, “Go north where the roads cross. There will be a neat little crevice in the hillside. Manage to worm your way in and you’ll find yourself at the Black Door. It will ask you a question… Answer with ‘Sublime, My Brother’, and huzzah! It’s open for you.”  
The breton wasn’t given time to respond to the shorter one’s instructions. The falmer booked it to the nearby window, melted the glass in a hurry, and leapt out without a trace. Gordon leaned out of the window looking for him, but it was no use. The falmer was long gone, but with the window now being an available escape, he took it without hesitation. The breton looked back at the still-warm body of his victim, held his breath, and jumped out the window. He rolled forward to prevent injury during his fall from the second floor, leaning his head into the grass as he collected himself.  
The moon hung low in the sky, just bright enough to light his way to the Black Door.

He was glad the falmer’s directions weren’t a filthy lie. There stood the Black Door in all it’s glory, a mystical depiction of the Night Mother engraved in it.  
Gordon raised his hand to touch it.  
“What of the flavor of fear?” Asked the Black Door.  
Gordon paused before answering, “Sublime, My Brother.”  
And the Black Door spoke again, “Welcome home…” and it opened with ease. Gordon found himself smiling at that… Yes… Welcome home.


End file.
